Eagle's Last Stand (10 page)

“Those punks are taunting Mike. Ray, I mean,” she said, pointing. “He needs our help.”

Chapter Eleven

Rick slammed on the brakes and pulled over to the curb, but before he’d even come to a stop, Ray Weaver had taken away the bat from the first teen, flipped the second over onto a pile of plastic trash bags and was facing off with the third. The tall kid with peach fuzz sideburns tried to land a knockout punch, but Ray blocked the move easily. The kid, realizing he was out of his league, spun around and raced on the tail of his fleeing companions.

“Guess you don’t need anyone covering your six,” Rick said, using the military expression for watching your back.

Ray shrugged. “Not with those sorry punks. They just need to learn a little respect for their elders, but thanks for stepping up.”

“No prob. They won’t be bothering you again, that’s for sure.” Rick reached for his wallet and gave Ray a card with his telephone number. “When you’re ready, Sergeant, call me. I can help you land a job and find a warm place to crash.”

“You know who I am.” His eyes met Rick’s and something clicked. “My fingerprints were on that plastic lid you pulled from the trash.”

Rick didn’t answer directly. “As I said, Ray, when you’re ready.”

On their way again, Kim gave Rick directions to Frank’s home, then opened up to him. “I experienced combat when our supply convoys came under attack. Whenever we hit the road, my nerves were always on edge, waiting to see if our vehicle was going to take an RPG strike or run over an IED. That uncertainty and fear really gets under your skin. Even after I came home, I was always looking around, gauging the threat environment. It took me a long time to become a civilian again,” she said. “Is that what you think happened to Ray?”

“To a degree, yes. Right now he’s trying to make his peace between who he was as a soldier and who he’s supposed to be stateside,” he said. “He needs to withdraw from the world to find himself again.”

“You went through something like that when you left undercover work, didn’t you?” she asked softly.

He nodded. “After my last assignment, I spent a lot of time in a hospital recovering from three bullet wounds and the cut you see on my face. The pain was a daily reminder of how close to death I’d come. Once the doctors had done all they could and we reached the cosmetic surgery stage, I’d had enough. I said no more and walked away. I rented a cabin up in the San Juan Mountains and stayed there for ten months. I didn’t shave. I bathed in a creek. And didn’t speak to anyone,” he said, his voice distant. “Time—and that daily silence—mapped my way back.”

“My healing came little by little on campus. A group of us would get together after class and relax by talking about inconsequential things like a new purse, or shoes, or the latest coffee flavor at Fresh Cup. Slowly I became me again.”

“Finding your way back can take you down many roads, but in the end all that matters is that you made it.”

* * *

A
S
THEY
ARRIVED
at Frank’s home, Kim sat up and looked directly ahead. “The Silverado is Uncle Frank’s pickup. I don’t know who owns the white Toyota.”

Rick got some immediate feedback from Preston, who ran the plates as they parked. “It belongs to Arthur Johnson,” Rick said, viewing his phone as they walked up the sidewalk. “Looks like we got lucky.”

They entered the house and Frank ushered them into the living room. Although he got around slowly, he seemed on the mend.

“I’m so glad to see you up and about, Uncle Frank,” Kim said.

“Me, too. Hospitals scare me spitless,” he admitted with a wry grin. “Your dad would tease me unmercifully about that,” he said and laughed. “It’s a good thing I was unconscious when they brought me in.”

Frank looked at Rick. “Have you found any answers yet?”

“Not definitive ones, no, but we’d like to ask you a few more questions,” Rick said. He could hear someone in the kitchen—no doubt Arthur—but avoided glancing in that direction, not wanting to distract Kim’s uncle.

Frank gave his niece a hard look. “You convinced Mr. Cloud to let you help investigate the blast, didn’t you? I know you’re taking law-enforcement classes, Kim, and that you learned a lot from your dad, but you’re still not a police officer.”

“This is all part of my new job, Uncle Frank. I’ve accepted a paid internship with Level One Security, and Rick’s giving me on-the-job training. It’s an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.”

Frank’s gaze hardened and he looked directly at Rick. “This is also his chance to keep you close and figure out if you know anything about who might have done this.”

“I can protect her,” Rick said.

“Looks to me like you haven’t had much luck protecting yourself in the past,” he said, his meaning clear.

“The fact that I’m standing here now proves I can handle myself.”

“Good point. So how can I help you?”

“Have you given any more thought to the events leading up to the explosion?” Rick asked.

“I’ve thought of nothing else,” Frank admitted, touching the large bandage above his right ear.

“Now that you’ve had a chance to look back, were there any red flags you somehow missed?”

Frank nodded. “When I went to take out some trash I heard someone in the alley behind the Brickhouse. I saw the back of someone in a hoodie walking down the alley, but I just assumed it was the homeless vet Kim feeds every night.”

“How’d you know he’s a vet?” Rick asked.

“He has a tattoo I recognized—some cavalry unit—and he carries himself like a soldier. I served and I recognize that walk.”

“The hoodie person—you know it was a man, not a woman?” Kim asked.

“Strode like a man. Didn’t have hips, either. I guess I should have taken a closer look, but I was watching the Dallas game while cleaning up.”

“Do you keep the kitchen doors locked?” Rick asked.

“Not when we’re open. Someone’s constantly going outside to throw out trash or to take a break. We’ve never had any trouble before.”

A moment later a man came into the room holding a mug of steaming coffee. He stood around six foot one and had silver, close-cropped hair, the perfect image of a no-nonsense former military officer.

Frank stood to introduce them. “This is my partner and friend, Arthur Johnson.”

“Call me Art,” he said, extending his hand and shaking Rick’s. Art sized up Rick at a gaze. “I imagine your family has run a background check on me by now. What can I add to what you already know?”

Something told Rick that Art was a man who’d prefer the direct approach. “Where were you two nights ago at approximately 9:00 p.m.?” he asked, not wasting any time.

“Right to the point. I like that,” Art said with an approving nod. “I was on the first leg of a flight back here from Oregon. I had a layover in Phoenix, and I didn’t arrive in Hartley until around noon yesterday. If you’re looking to me, or Frank, for a motive, you’re wasting your time.” He took a long sip of coffee from the mug.

“I understand the insurance settlement will be substantial,” Rick said, though in truth he didn’t have any details yet. Preston needed a court order, and going through the red tape always took time.

“I always make sure I can recoup my losses should something happen to one of my investments,” Art said. “That’s just good business. As it stands, though, even if the structure and contents of the Brickhouse are replaced quickly, Frank and I will still face a substantial loss of revenue during the rebuilding process.”

“Is it true you aren’t involved in day-to-day business at the tavern?” Rick asked.

“Never have been. I was a silent partner, and Frank made all the operating decisions. After my wife passed away, I liquidated most of my investments, but held on to the Brickhouse mostly because it always ran in the black.”

“So you plan to rebuild?” Rick asked.

Art set the coffee mug down. “Frank and I haven’t had time to discuss that yet. First, I want to see for myself just how big a hit the building took. Would you like to come with me? I’m going over there now.”

Rick shook his head. “I’ve already seen what I need there.”

“Then I’ll say goodbye,” Art concluded. “I hope you catch the weasel who jumped my partner and burned down our place.”

Frank gazed out the window as Art drove away. “He’s a good friend. I know he sounds cold, but Art always steps up whenever he’s needed.”

Rick glanced at Kim. “I need to call my brother, so I’m going to step out onto the patio and give you two a chance to catch up in private.”

Rick walked out the French doors onto the flagstone patio to call Paul. He needed someone willing to cut a few corners.

“Run a careful check on Arthur Johnson’s finances,” Rick told him. “Look beneath the surface.”

“Am I searching for anything in particular?”

“For starters, tell me if he’s in debt. He mentioned selling most of his assets, and that backs up what Kim has already told us. But we don’t know his current financial situation. I’d like to know if there’s any reason other than personal considerations.”

“Will do. Hang on and I’ll do a credit check.” Paul put him on hold but quickly came back on the line. “He’s got a lot of outstanding medical bills, mostly alternative treatments his health insurance refused to cover. The payments are high, but he’s never late.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s not about to go broke. Check into his bank accounts and get back to me,” Rick answered.

Ending the call, Rick entered the living room just in time to catch the tail end of an argument.

“You’re getting sidetracked by taking on what could be a low-paying, full-time job, Kim. Nothing’s more important than your education. That’s your ticket up,” Frank said.

“I’ll benefit from this work almost as much as I do my classes, and I won’t have to work two jobs just to make ends meet. I’m staying on course, and at the end of the road, I’ll be wearing a badge,” she said in a quiet but firm voice.

They lapsed into silence the moment they saw Rick standing there. “You ready to go?” Kim asked Rick, her face slightly flushed.

“Sure,” he said.

As they walked back to the SUV parked across the street, he asked the question foremost on his mind. “Are you having second thoughts about taking an active part in the investigation?”

“None,” she said flatly. “Karl Edmonds, who teaches my Police Procedure class, called me while you were outside and Uncle Frank heard me talking to him. Edmonds doesn’t think Daniel’s company is a good environment for a future law-enforcement officer. He wants to talk to me at school.”

“I know Edmonds doesn’t like me, but there might be some bad blood between Karl and Daniel, too. Any idea why?” Rick asked.

“I don’t know for sure, but there’s always been friction between the police department and private investigative firms in our area—everything from salaries and rivalries to conflicting interests.”

“Let’s go over to the campus and we’ll both talk to Edmonds.”

“Sounds good to me,” she said, liking the way he’d offered to stand with her on this. Rick was a rock in times of trouble. His mixture of testosterone and gallantry was one she couldn’t resist.

Once they arrived on campus, they headed directly for Karl’s office, actually a cubicle among a dozen others in a large metal portable building. Except for Edmonds, the building was empty at the moment.

Edmonds smiled at Kim when she knocked on the doorless partition, but once he noticed Rick standing beside her, he scowled. “I’d like to talk to Miss Nelson privately, if you don’t mind, Mr. Cloud.” His wording was polite, his tone not even close.

“It’s okay with me if Mr. Cloud remains, Mr. Edmonds,” Kim answered without emotion.

Edmonds kept his eyes on Kim as he ushered them to seats. “I wanted to speak with you about your work at Complete Security. I don’t know if you’re aware that private investigation agencies in our area are known for cutting corners. They walk a thin line between legal and illegal practices, and that’s going to hurt your chances of getting into the police academy.”

Rick replied before Kim could speak. “Level One Security is led by a highly trained former military intelligence officer with a higher clearance level than anyone currently serving with your department.

“The company also works under contract for state and federal agencies. Local public law enforcement often enlists their services for special investigations.”

Karl shrugged, ignoring Rick’s remarks. “You’re free to make your own decisions, Kim, but the way security firms conduct their business is a lot different from the way the police department works. You’re headed in the wrong direction, no matter what Rick’s telling you.”

Rick leaned closer. “Exactly what am I telling her, Karl?”

Edmond’s gaze locked with Rick’s. “You’re placing this woman in danger she’s not trained to face. Your entire family has enemies here, Cloud, and Kim isn’t ready for the truckload of trouble you and your brothers can bring her way.”

“I’m already involved, Mr. Edmonds,” Kim said. “Someone tried to kill me two days ago, and I’m not going to sit back and let them have another go at me.”

“That’s another reason you shouldn’t be involved. You’re too close to it. Cops aren’t allowed to investigate cases they’re personally involved in.” Edmonds stopped, then gave Rick a stony glare. “Or are you using her as bait?”

Rick moved forward but Kim grabbed his arm. “Come on. We’re leaving.”

Once they were on the sidewalk, Kim shook her head angrily. “What’s gotten into him? He was sure doing his best to provoke you into taking a swing. No way that was all about me.”

“Let me call Daniel to find out the history between them.”

As they walked to the parking lot, Rick made a quick call. A few minutes later he had his answer.

“Before Karl got the job with the bomb squad, he’d applied for a job at Daniel’s company. Something about him rubbed Daniel wrong, so he ended up hiring someone else.”

“What exactly was the problem?” Kim asked.

“Daniel wouldn’t say,” Rick answered, “but he wants Preston to know what went down today.”

“Do you think Karl Edmonds might have had something to do with the explosion? He was angry at Daniel and you, so maybe after three or four years of stewing on it, he decided to take action.”